True Colors
by Symphony17
Summary: "How old are you, Yachiru?" he says, just loud enough for her to hear, as the question and the use of her name without any honorifics stops her in mid-sentence as her face becomes completely blank. "Twelve," she mutters. "And how long have you been twelve?" he prompts quietly. Her entire body droops. "Too long." ((Rated T for language.))


" –cking dumbass, treating me like shit. What a dick."

It is not the language that stops the dark-haired captain (he has heard it too many times from too many people), but the voice that says it. The slightest of frowns creasing his forehead, Byakuya peers around the corner of the far wall of his mansion, the corner he rarely visits during his walks through the garden. The voice, familiar only because he has heard it so much, is mildly distorted by the tone that accompanies the vile words still being muttered into the fading light.

As he watches, the diminutive figure occupying his garden picks up a pebble and tosses it viciously into a flowerbed before crouching in malevolent silence. He notes with some surprise that the reiatsu of his intruder is being carefully masked.

"Kusajishi-fukutaichou, what are you doing in my garden?" he says suddenly, stepping around the corner of the house.

The pink-haired girl looks up sharply and rolls her weight from her feet to her bottom, sprawling out on the grass with wide, innocent eyes. "Byakushi…" she starts to say before the noble holds up a hand to stop her.

"Someone has angered you, I presume," he says mildly, folding himself down to sit next to the tiny shinigami.

She stares at him for a moment before her pomegranate eyes darken to maroon and the naive look disappears from her face. Her round cheeks and thin lips lose all semblance of childishness as she stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on her hands. "So you heard," she mutters dispassionately.

Byakuya keeps his eyes on a flowerbud, the last remaining among the white roses that take up this section of the garden, as he nods gravely.

"Some newbie was being a jerk. Insulted me," the pinkette says shortly.

In the dimming light, the captain allows himself to study his companion for a few moments as it occurs to him for the first time that children, even in Soul Society, usually grew faster than the lieutenant sitting before him had. How long had she and Zaraki been with the Gotei 13? Over a hundred years now, and the child – no, _Yachiru_ – had barely grown an inch. Byakuya lets himself wonder if perhaps the trauma that threw her and Zaraki together had stunted her growth in some way.

Next to him, the object of his thoughts begins ranting about the idiots and wimps that have been coming from the Academy recently, although Byakuya notes that her language has been toned down considerably.

"How old are you, Yachiru?" he says, just loud enough for her to hear, as the question and the use of her name without any honorifics stops her in mid-sentence and her face becomes completely blank.

"Twelve," she mutters.

"And how long have you been twelve?" he prompts quietly.

Her entire body droops.

"Too long."

* * *

They sit silently until the sun drops completely behind the horizon, and there is more shadow than light in the lush garden.

And finally he stands, slowly, gracefully, and offers the faintest of smiles to the young lieutenant. "May I offer you something to eat, Kusajishi-fukutaichou?"

Her lips pulling up into a new kind of smile, Yachiru stands and remains silent for a moment. "Yakisoba," she says quietly. "And takoyaki."

He does not offer his hand to his companion as other – less sensible – shinigami might, but walks together with her as equals, for once inviting and accompanying her into the kitchen and requesting that the chef include her preferences with his evening meal.

And if anyone notices that Byakuya begins taking more meals at home and that Yachiru disappears more often and longer than usual, nobody mentions it, but several people silently wonder at the change in the way the little girl carries herself and the contemplative smile that sometimes appears, seeming far beyond her age. Nobody says anything. After all, they don't want to be saddled with babysitting duty.


End file.
